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<title>herein lies the ritual (and the healing) by VerdantMoth</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25924588">herein lies the ritual (and the healing)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerdantMoth/pseuds/VerdantMoth'>VerdantMoth</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Healing, Kisses, M/M, MIT Era, Monica Gallagher's Suicide Attempt, Scars, Soft Boys</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:14:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>574</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25924588</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerdantMoth/pseuds/VerdantMoth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Herein lies the ritual; Tony comes back to the dorm, and it’s dark, curtains drawn and laptops shut. Rhodey sits in the black, the only light the bright midday sun sneaking through the sliver of curtain gap they never quite managed to close. </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Rhodey" Rhodes/Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Kisses Bingo</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>herein lies the ritual (and the healing)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Herein lies the ritual; Tony comes back to the dorm, and it’s dark, curtains drawn and laptops shut. Rhodey sits in the black, the only light the bright midday sun sneaking through the sliver of curtain gap they never quite managed to close. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony drops his bag at the door, eases it shut. He climbs onto sheets that smell like spice and flour and Rhodey, rest his chin on a broad shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carefully, slowly, reverently, he peels Rhodey’s fingers away from the thick, ugly rope of scar up his forearm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Herein lies the confession; “I don’t regret it,” Rhodey tells the emptiness. “Not in the way people assume.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony bums against Rhodey’s ear, appreciates the way the older boy shivers. “I mean, I’m glad, ok? Glad it failed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, Platypus,” Tony says. Because he does. The ritual isn’t new. He knows what Rhodey needs. “Tell me ‘bout it anyway.” Tony wraps slender fingers around a trembling wrist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve pretty much always been the only one out. Never meant to be,” Rhodey sighs. “Just never considered being anything but honest. That’s how Mama raised us. And ‘sides, Mama and Pa never seemed to mind. Didn’t know it was a thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony snorts in his ear, but he doesn’t stop him. His nails carefully trace the twin scar on the other arm, bracketing Rhodey in between his scrawny limbs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s different here,” Rhodey whispers. “Was. Came here that first semester and I knew, okay? I knew there wouldn’t be a lot of us. But there weren't just not many of us. I was the only one. Only black guy. Only gay kid. Only one on scholarship it seemed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony huffs into his ear, ‘cause he hates this part. Hates the way Rhodey curls his shoulders and lowers his voice and tries to fade into the blank of the dorm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not,” Rhodey’s voice cracks. “No one was outright mean. But it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>lonely</span>
  </em>
  <span> in a way I’ve never been alone before. My house, small as it was, was crowded and loud and so full of life and love. And here, it was just me and myself and nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony pushes Rhodey’s arms out of his way, bullies into the older boy’s lap and holds his palms in his hands. He likes the contrast, light and dark, big and small. It always amazes him how much smoother, softer, </span>
  <em>
    <span>warmer </span>
  </em>
  <span>Rhodey’s hands are. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t think, you know. I didn’t sit there and plan it out. I don’t even really remember how it happened except.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rhodey always shakes the hardest here. Always goes the quietest. “There was just an exacto blade, and then so, so much blood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Herein lies the healing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony never lets Rhodey talk about it too much more. He kisses a mangled wrist. Kisses all the way up to one elbow and then down the other arm. “I’m glad you’re still here,” he tells Rhodey simply. Plainly. “I’m glad you’re still here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I survived,” Rhodey tells him. “Maybe it’s the ugliest reminder,” he test the left hand that still doesn’t close  correctly. “But I made it, and so many don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Survival is ugly,” Tony says blandly. And maybe he’s thinking about his own scars, his own mangled flesh. Maybe he’s just a dumb sixteen year old trying to make his friend feel better. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or maybe, two idiot boys hiding under a handmade quilt, tracing scars, know more about survival than any kid ever should. </span>
</p>
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